Seuss Medleys
by DolciFool
Summary: -
1. A Spring Time Shedding

**Title:** A Spring Time Shedding  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Summary:** Spring has arrived in the Truffula Valley.  
**Author's Note:** This was inspired by a drawing citritus on tumblr drew; it can be viewed at:  
http:/citritus[dot]tumblr[dot]com/post/21752569047/ciritus-i-dunno-can-you-guys-can-come-out

* * *

He had _had_ it.

No really, he had.

Standing outside he could just tell the day was going to be a hot one; there would be no point in going into town today and trying to sell his Thneed. As cool as his invention was it wasn't going to beat this heat.

But it wasn't the valley's hot spell that had him stewing; oh no, it was what had him currently shaking his blankets and pillows clean. Carrying the large bundle of sheets back inside he fumed some more. After he'd agreed to not cut anymore trees down Once-Ler had at first been dismayed to find his home overrun by the Lorax and the valley animals.

After a time though he'd accepted that the Humming-fish had taken over his cups and bowls for their bathing sessions. He'd overlooked the brown Barbaloots eating him out of house and home (he actually enjoyed cooking for the eager furry masses). He'd even come to terms with (although very reluctantly) the Swomee Swans building their nests all over, in and on his house and them singing their songs at the crack of dawn.

However he could not— He would not tolerate this. Marching back outside, he scanned the hillside for the culprit.

"Mustache!"

* * *

He finally located the target of his vexation; the Lorax was seated at a shallow bend with his feet in the river, watching a few young Barbaloots play and bathe in the cool running water.

"Mustache!"

The Lorax stood and greeted him, "Hey kiddo! You coming to join us—"

"What is this?" he thrust his hand, palm up and fingers curled, into the Forest Guardian's face. The Lorax flinched at the action and ever so cautiously peered at what he held cupped in his hand; wisps of orange and yellow hair were what greeted him. He stared at it a moment in dumbfounded silence and the Once-Ler, growing impatient, shook his fist a bit.

"Ahem."

Shaken from his stupor; The Lorax stared up at the taller than average human whom he'd come to think of as a friend and asked the first thing that came to mind, "Beanpole... Where are your pants?"

"Wha?" He sputtered as a pink flush crawled up his neck to grace his face and ears, "T-that's not– I thought we talked about you not using any more of my things to, to _brush_ that mustache of yours!"

The Lorax crossed his arms, "I haven't. Its spring time kiddo, I'm shedding and surely you've noticed the Barbaloots doing the same." He paused, an unsure look crossing his face, "_Why_ are you walking around in your underpants?"

"My clothes are itchy, okay? Your fur is everywhere!" He flapped his arms animatedly as though it would convey his problem better.

The Lorax huffed in amusement, "Its Nature kiddo, you grew up on a farm, don't you know these things?"

The Once-Ler didn't hear him though; too busy expanding upon the idea that had just hit him.

"Unless..."

"I don't like that look Beanpole. Whatever it is you've got going on in that head of yours, you can just forget about it." He demanded as he recalled the last few time the Once-Ler had come up with something ingenious to make life in the valley easier.

Most had ended in disaster of course; luckily with nothing more than the poor boy's pride bruised, but not crushed. He had to hand it to him through— the boy had an impressive amount of optimism.

"No, wait I can fix this!" He beamed, "There's a very simple solution to this very hairy problem."

"You're about to get a very hairy foot up your backside."

* * *

Back in the tent (after much coercion) the Lorax watched warily from his perch on the bed as the Once-Ler dug shoulder deep through some of his unopened boxes.

"Found it!" He crowed triumphantly, "'_The Electric Super Sucker 3000'_, guaranteed to suck up any mess off of any surface or your money back." His salesman voice in full swing as he waved it around, "I hardly ever use this cause it needs batteries and brooms are easier, but I think this qualifies as an emergency."

Lorax eyed the strange device distrustfully, "Well, when you put it like that, it's still no." He declared deadpanned.

Disgruntled the Once-Ler flipped a switch and with a soft hum the machine came to life, growing to a constant and loud _Brrrrrrrrrrr._ Not unlike a growling animal; in fact some of the Barbaloots inside fled at the noise.

"Look buddy, it's either you sleep outside 'til winter, I shave you bald or you let me vacuum up the extra fur." Brandishing the vacuum like a sword he pointed it at the Speaker of the Trees, "Take your pick Mustache."

"Uhh..."

* * *

Once-Ler was humming a tune that the Lorax thought sounded suspiciously like his little Thneed jingle as he ran the vacuum along his back, "I want you to know that I am highly offended right now."

Once-Ler scoffed, "Oh relax, this is hardly degrading."

"And you would know this how?"

An uncomfortable silence followed as Once-Ler recalled a very embarrassing tomato bath incident from his youth.

With a nervous cough he resumed his grooming, "Uh, hey, with this much fur maybe I can make a Thneed out of you." He joked as he went back to humming his little tune, this time poking him in the head with the vacuum.

"Don't push it Beanpole."

"Haha, you're right. It'd be too itchy."

"Pushing it."

"Alright, alright."


	2. A Once Is Born

**Title:** A Once Is Born  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Summary:** A rhyming poem; About the Once-Ler's conception and his 'parents'.  
**Author's Note:** Near the end of the book The Once-ler says to the Lorax:

"_And then I got mad. I got terribly mad.  
I yelled at the Lorax, "Now listen here, Dad!"_

_"All you do is yap-yap and say, 'Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!'  
Well, I have my rights, sir, and I'm telling you  
I intend to go on doing just what I do!"_

Because of this I believe The Once-Ler has daddy issues, seeing as he's not really mentioned at all; and while everyone thinks his father was a wonderful man I don't believe he was raised by him. So I submit to you a head-cannon in rhyme:

* * *

Once upon a time The Once-Ler's mother had an affair.  
She cheated, with a man who had much more flair.  
But the one-nightstand bore her more than some fun,  
why nine months later it bore her a son!

Her husband was joyous at first, until he saw the boy's face.  
He got mad, oh how mad he got! So mad he got he began to pace.  
"What's this, these blue eyes and black hair? He got neither these things from me!  
Just how can this be?— Isabella, Isabella _LOOK AT ME_!"

She began to cry, oh how she wept; so much so she started to shake,  
"It was nothing! Meant nothing— just a- a silly mistake!"  
But the damage was done, their marriage strained and strewn.  
Her husband coldly looked back, "He's no son of mine." And with that he left room.

A silence enveloped the room, deafening in its quiet. Only broken by her whispers;

"One time it was and one time it will be,  
for I shall have this memory to haunt me."  
Gaze hardening she looked to the Doctor as she declared,  
"His name is Once." Her newborn baby cooed and held her stare.

And with that The Once-Ler had been born.


End file.
